


Monster

by Fudgyokra



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII - The Last Jedi
Genre: Angst, F/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Oops, SPOILERS for TLJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 01:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: If only.





	Monster

**Author's Note:**

> I watched The Last Jedi premiere earlier tonight and now I'm tipsy, so... This is a present for Michaela! xoxo

He trusted her, her newness, her power. They might have been two halves of a whole instead of two gods on different sides of a holy war, if she had only said yes. If only she had taken his hand.

_You trusted her._

It was an admonishment from only his own head, no one else’s.

_You killed Snoke for her._

No, it was for himself, he swore it, he couldn’t–

_For her. For both of us._

Their skin-to-skin contact was not just a brush of fate, not a token shock of emotion to be trifled with. After what he’d done to Luke, to Han ( _to my own father_ ), he didn’t see his own begging until it was too late. Until he’d allowed her in and let her take all there was left to take.

He could still feel the brine of her ocean-side skin, and he knew if he’d only been more careful he might have come close enough to taste it on her lips, or–

_This must stop, because if it doesn’t–_

He imagined her hand, trembling, and for a second it wasn’t his own around him, fumbling under the cloak of darkness. There was no mental connection, not anymore, but there was _memory_ , and that was enough. Had always been enough. Had to be. There was no other choice, not anymore.

But if there had been, he had to wonder how it might have gone. Certainly not like this, not like a man alone in his room. Not like a man alone. Not like a man…

Only soft skin, but with callouses on her hands, and then on his skin, on _him,_ and god, there was no way he could help the vivid way in which he now saw her face. He imagined for the briefest of moments that she _could_ still sense him, lying there with only his shame to cover him, and it was a thought that enraptured him more than it should have.

It wasn’t until he was over the edge, hair fanned out around him and her name on his tongue that he realized exactly what he’d done, what he’d told her, what it meant he had become.

A villain, a coward, a– _monster_.

A fluke, a terror, a…

He sighed; it was a shuddery, feather-like huff of a thing. He could almost imagine what she’d look like if she were to see him now, and it was a peaceful lull in the waters of his life until he remembered, as he did every night, who he was and what he meant to other people.

Unequivocally, without hope and without room for error, he was–

_A monster._

Worse: Nothing.


End file.
